


Private Thoughts

by Kallos83



Category: NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-18 20:09:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5941528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kallos83/pseuds/Kallos83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years in high school with a crappy co-curricular activity was bad enough. Now, Ziva David needs to deal with her fourth and final year of pandemonium, entrance examinations and her growing interest with Tony DiNozzo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Here we go

The Girls' Brigade. A uniform group, stemming from hell, was probably one of the most disciplined based co-curricular activities. It consisted of torture, precision drill and way too much screaming from higher authorities.

A hideous uniform as something part of the package, Ziva often brought herself on the verge of ripping through the uncomfortable fabric.

Everyone claimed it was a watered down version of an army and Ziva couldn't agree more.

Regardless, Ziva David was the President and she wasn't going to let her own damnation prevent her from leading the girls the best she could.

So when she was asked to participate in a Girls' and Boys' Brigade recruitment performance, she was obligated to agree to it. Thankfully, thirteen others were forced into the same misery and Ziva didn't have to suffer alone.

The Boys' Brigade was similar to the Girls' Brigade, except, as the name implied, was for boys.

Although Ziva did not know any of them well, she was determined to keep it that way.

* * *

Apart from a precision drill item, there was a dance.

Ziva was overjoyed.

It was meant to be a 'couple dance', accommodating a pair. The seniors, who had toiled over its creation, were insistent that each pair consisted of a boy and girl.

Soon began the gruelling process of learning everything. It was relentlessly taxing and all of them were hating every second of it.

Ziva expressed her excitement through sighs that escaped her lips when her seniors, the masterminds of the organised crime, told her to smile a tad more during the dance.

A forced tug of the lips was all she could manage.

Running a hand through dark hair and leaving a nest atop his head, Anthony DiNozzo, glared at Ziva with piercing green eyes when it was announced she was to be his partner.

He was tall, slightly ripped and blessed with a rather charming face. Ziva couldn't think of something to say when they first practised the dance together, so she didn't. Tony, as his friends addressed him, exchanged the favour, not making it any more awkward than it already was.

* * *

 The performance fused both the co-curricular activities and brought the most unlikely pair to ever exist.

But that was it. They just coexisted as two different entities, never mixing.

Now, the thing was, no matter how hard the seniors worked to bring the two co-curricular activities together, no matter how much effort they stuffed in, they just could not bond as a team.

Mostly because no one saw the point. To them, the team was already cohesive enough.

No one was clawing anyone's eyes out, there was no threatening nor knives being pulled out.

Of course, there was another factor that came into play- about three-quarters of the team was already attached. This made the entire 'couple dance' aspect of the performance hard to carry out with genuine willingness.

Through it all, they pulled through the numerous practices. As the date of the performance drew closer, so did the team, absent-mindedly.

The first time they spoke was filled with tentative teasing and the crushing feeling of mystery.

“Can’t believe the ice queen of the Girls’ Brigade can dance so well,” Tony had said during a break.

Quirked eyebrows, Ziva caught his gaze and locked his eyes down.

“Is that what they call me?” replied Ziva.

Tony, raised his hands defensively, laughing gingerly, “No, I mean- we don’t mean it in a bad way- it’s just-”

“We have a name for you too,” Ziva cut off, turning away from him as she took a sip of water, “the giant 5-year-old.”

Clutching his chest and feigning pain, Tony groaned, “Ziva David, I’m bleeding out. Send help.”

That earned him a soft chuckle. With coiled lips, Tony said, “you better watch out, Ziva. I’ll be avenged.”

* * *

 

The exasperated stigma was gone and all was well.

Of course, being the irresponsible person he was, Tony had skipped out on a couple of training sessions and had been late a bunch of times.

Things took a turn for the worst when, on a particular training, one of the authoritative figures dropped in to observe their training session.

The seniors had been high-strung and agitated that day, ratting Tony out to the teacher-in-charge. Low and behold, Tony had skipped out on that day's training as well, making the entire thing worse for him.

Almost immediately, the teacher kicked him out of the performance.

"Hey, you look quite upset for someone whose partner had just been kicked out," Abby, a teammate and friend, joked. Forcing a smile, Ziva had shaken her head, spilling some excuse about being tired.

But she was upset. It was such a waste. They had just been becoming friends or at least, acquaintances, but now she'd have to build something that exhausting with a replacement?

Ziva was pulled out of the realm of her own thoughts by one of the Boys' Brigade teachers mentioning her name. "So, who do you think should replace Tony? Since he's your partner you get to have a word. Not saying that it might happen, though."

She peeked at Timothy McGee, who was in-charge of the Boys' Brigade on the student front. He didn't seem to be able to tell her to help him root for anyone so she just spoke her mind.

"Well, I think the best person would be Tony since he already knows the entire sequence. Even though he did commit to other things, don't you think as long as he realises his mistake, apologises genuinely and changes for the better, it should be enough?"

A silence enveloped the group of students gathered. The teacher-in-charge of the Boys' Brigade pressed his lips together in a thin line, possibly enraged. Ziva couldn't tell.

The seniors picked off from that abrupt quiet into a discussion about new t-shirts they were going to make for the performance.

The next training was a particularly long one. In fact, it was a one-day camp. It would consist of games as well as practice. But when that day rolled around, Ziva woke up with vicious cramps. Usually, they weren't so bad. They'd pass eventually, perhaps after a few doses of painkillers.

However, it got to a point where she couldn't stand from all the pain. Not only was she in absolute discomfort, she had attempted to go to the camp, and vomited due to added motion sickness of taking a train.

The dizziness whelmed her mind, robbing her of clear vision, stability and eventually, consciousness.


	2. the calm before the

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when quiet things happen consecutively, it's only a build up to the point where shit hits the fan.

The intermittent thrumming of the fan above head ushered her into a whole new level of perplexity.

Grimacing at the pain as she sat up, her confusion was deepened with the realization that she had been lying on someone's lap.

  
Gaze flicking, darting, she was surprised to see Anthony DiNozzo sat next to her, his backpack resting sideways on his lap.

  
"What is going on?" Ziva asked, eyebrows furrowed.

  
He shrugged gingerly, "beats me, I didn't wake up today expecting to catch falling girls."

  
"Neither did I expect to wake up with my worst nightmare next to me," she quipped.

  
Tony's eyes widened in shock, "hey, what did I-" Ziva smirked, rummaging through her bag for pain-killers.

  
"Just kidding, Tony."

  
His features relaxed and melted into a warm wide smile.

  
"You're...not quite what I expected, Ziva David," Tony mumbled as he got up, allowing her to gather her things.

  
The pain prevailed, shooting strokes around her stomach, making her double over in her seat.

  
Alarmed and at a lost on what to do, Tony's hands hovered over her, flitting. Finally, they landed on his phone, "I'll get a cab and send you home."

  
Nodding, she looked up at him. Donning the face of the model senior- responsible and serious, she watched in slight awe as he rattled off with the address and directed the driver to the least popular entrance of the station.

  
A rare occurrence that she'd only seen him assume a couple of times.

  
They hobbled to the car. She was well on her way home. Her family greeted her with more painkillers and heat packs.

  
And that was it.

  
While she did miss the camp and Tony was unbelievably late, the seniors were understanding. To what they owed the honor to dodge their wrath, she'd no idea.

* * *

  
His name is Anthony DiNozzo and he's waiting outside my classroom.

  
A blank look that was both cold and unreadable occupied his charismatic features. He leant back on his heels, stretching arms wide across the railing lining the corridor.

  
The sliding windows that have been pushed open gave me a ridiculously clear view of the boy trying his best to look nonchalant. It wasn’t the first time I had seen a teenager putting on a façade of indifference, but it was one of the first times that I had seen it riddled with a tinge of reluctance.

  
Usually, this common mask was worn by all that wanted to appear headstrong, to attract the most attention to boost their already brimming confidence, but Anthony’s demeanor was a different story.

  
All I’d ever heard about Anthony was that despite his staunch foundation in academia, he was extremely playful and a stellar heartbreaker. Having never taught his class, that was all I had on him.

By this time, I’d gone over curriculum time by fifteen minutes. As I issued the homework, hence signaling the closing of my lesson, he approached the door. I couldn’t help but notice the classroom still.

Dismissal filled the class with chatter.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Shepard,” Tony smiled.

  
“What brings you here today?” I asked, gathering my things. “I’m looking for Ziva,” replied Tony, his expression indecipherable and gaze stubborn. When my eyebrows disappeared behind my fringe, he elaborated, “It's GB related”.

  
Not that it explained much. Being a teacher in charge of GB, it was odd to not have a clue about what he was going to talk to Ziva about. “Are you planning on joining us?” I teased and was surprised to have him reply, “Something like that”.

  
Keeping him at the corner of my eye, I watched as he strolled to Ziva’s table at the back of the class, where she seemed expectant to see him.

  
The class erupted into a new level of series of whispers, bubbles of interest that distracted them from the slightly heavier workload I had given them for the week.

  
Speculations and curiosity clambered over most of the students as I left, heading for lunch.

  
Much to my displeasure, I realized I had left my water bottle in the classroom just as I turned the corner to the staffroom. Going back to retrieve it, I entered an almost empty classroom.

  
Anthony and Ziva were at the back of the classroom engaged in a hushed conversation. Murmurs and chuckling and ruffling, they chatted through the collection of my water bottle- Ziva packing her things slowly and Tony hovering around her desk.

  
Hands stuffed in his pockets, a content smile spilled over his face, it completely undermined his previously dishonest expression.

 

* * *

  
Ziva does not know how or why or who roped them into this- okay, scratch that, it was Abby to blame for this chaos (as always)- but she absolutely did not like what was happening.

  
They had been waiting around for their performance to start and while they were especially nervous and jittery, that didn’t excuse them from resorting to play Never have I ever.

Sighing into the tense air that filled the court adjacent to the performance ground, Ziva looked up at the group sitting in a circle. Of all things, she felt that what they were doing was definitely worse than an actual satanic ritual.

  
It didn’t help that they were blatantly taking people down. With two solid hands 8 fingers remaining on their fourteenth round, Ziva had an inkling that they would be attacking her soon.

  
“Never have I ever broken up with someone,” said Tim, eyeing Tony pointedly.

  
Four fingers went down around the group, sheepish laughs tossed in the air.

  
It was Tony’s turn, to which he lashed out against Tim, “never have I ever not been asked out on a date.” Jeers erupted throughout the space, taunting Tim as he lowered his finger down, hanging his head in mocking shame.

Lowering her finger unapologetically, Ziva rolled her eyes at Abby’s cooing.

  
“No way, Ziva’s never been asked out?” Tony exclaimed before he could catch himself- causing the whole group to stare at her.

  
“Why do you care?” asked Abby, half aggressive, half teasing.

  
“This is a personal attack against Tim, Ziva’s not going to be collateral damage,” laughed Tony, pulling a hand through his hair. It was foreboding that tickled her throat while a sense of insecurity gnawed at her skin.

Rubbing the side of his jaw, Tony shouted, “Alright, guess there’s no helping it. Ziva- you, me; 3 am late night movie at The Parlor?”

  
Wolf-whistling, hoots, and cheers were elicited from the crowd as they watched for Ziva’s response. Scarlet splotches of embarrassment scaled her skin, jostling her mind awake.

  
Ziva rose to the challenge. “Depends. What are we watching?”

  
More roars of encouragement ensued.

  
But before they could continue, Matthew, one of the crew for the orientation performance, came crashing into their game, taking all their false bubble of calm along with their three months of hard work.

  
“Hey guys, we don’t have a teacher to verify and register the girls for your performance. We need one to do so or the girls can’t perform.”

  
Alert more so than ever, Ziva sprung up and glanced at the court they were in. Bustling with performers and not helping their situation at all. There were no teachers of either BB or GB at the moment.

  
“What do you mean we can’t perform? Didn’t a BB teacher register all of us already? ” she asked calmly.

 

Raising his hands up defensively, Matthew disclosed, “yes, but you two are separate CCAs, we need a teacher from your CCA too.”

  
Glimpsing down at the team who had already taken to calling up their respective teachers, Ziva tried negotiating with Matthew, “who’s the teacher in charge of the planning committee? Are they really strict about following this? I mean, we are basically BB’s sister CCA”.

  
Matthew shook his head, “GB has always had high standards of discipline and conduct. Are you trying to tarnish it by weaseling your way out of this?”

  
Tony, who had somehow appeared next to her, opened his mouth, his furrowed eyebrows, and fierce eyes an indication as to what he was about to say, but was cut off by Abby grabbing her shoulder.

  
“Ziva! No one’s picking up!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm back from exams with a new chapter. Hope you like it!


	3. momentus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An annoying problem brings the two together to tackle team politics and more.

There are so many things happening all at once and Matthew was not helping.

  
Abby sighed at the situation at hand.

  
The teachers were uncontactable and they were doomed.

  
How the tables have turned, she thought bitterly. The girls were usually the ones that were a no-show for activity allocated time. Not that they were to blame- the activity was almost always on a Saturday.

  
Secretly, she hoped it was a cruel prank on them to see if the seniors could respond efficiently. As she was met with another "User Busy" notification on her screen, she let the bitter taste of reality overwhelm her.

  
Tony and Ziva paced the length of the court that had been deemed the waiting area. It's rough and unforgiving surface a reflection of their plight.

  
The boys had taken to calling up the BB teachers in charge, in hopes they'd be able to come down and sort this out on their behalf.

  
Their spot to perform had already been replaced with another activity's performance. Watching hopelessly with panic rising in her throat, Abby turned to the girls who seemed to be in as much at a loss as to what to do.

  
"Maybe we can just say that the boys are going to be performing, but halfway through we run in," Abby laughed, the ridiculous idea temporarily stunting the weight of the atmosphere.

 

Ziva faced a retreating Matthew.

  
"Well," she paused, "he just said no teacher, no performance. Again."

  
A collective sigh spread out across the girls.

  
"But," Gibbs began from behind Ziva and scaring the hell out of her, "are you really going to let 3 months of practice go down the drain?"

  
The boys greeted their senior, showing only signs of fear. According to them, Gibbs was a dark horse character that rarely showed up for activities, but when he did, he wreaked havoc.

  
Being surprisingly clever and mischievous, he could solve most of their screw-ups by messing about and talking his way out for them. It was rather odd, too, that he never asked for anything in return. That only made the boys feel even more insecure and suspicious, yet respect him even more.

  
In summary, they had a ridiculous relationship.

  
“What do you suggest we do?” Ziva prodded, her mind was pretty much open for any type of idea at this point.

  
Gibbs stilled, motioning for everyone to huddle around him, “Abby has a good idea. We can give them the impression that we’re just going to let the boys perform and the girls can appear unexpectedly.”

  
“I feel like we’re disobeying many orders here,” Abby mumbled, “and that was meant to be a joke.”

  
Ziva looked around the group of the fourteen of them. It was late and everyone just appeared uncertain and ready to throw in the towel. The officers weren’t there for them and Ziva thought this was the next best thing if they wanted to perform.

  
“But, the performance is the main thing that attracts recruits to join us every year, Abby,” said Ziva. When her furrowed eyebrows refused to move, Ziva knew she hadn’t convinced her.

  
Tim, deep in thought, added, “But is this really a good example for our juniors? If we go through with this we’re basically showing that when left to their own devices, the seniors will go ‘fuck it all’.”

  
Sighing, Ziva shook her head. They were all valid points, but she didn’t know how else to resolve this. She also didn’t want to give up, though, but she didn’t know how else to convince the rest.

  
In the midst of it all, Tony spoke up, “well, I don’t think we should think too deep into this. Look at us- we’ve been okay seniors for our juniors for the past year, some more than others,” he shrugged at the pointed looks at him, “this little hiccup where we choose not to follow the rules isn’t going to cancel out the good we’ve done. Besides, we or the teachers weren’t told to have a teacher per CCA, until the last minute. So, technically, it’s not our fault.”

  
“But we’re still going to break the rules,” Abby begins, “and I am so in.”

  
Although they’d got Abby on board, the rest seemed unimpressed but felt too polite to voice their opinions. “Okay. Be candid with me. What are you afraid of?” asks Ziva.

  
Some glances were exchanged among the group before everyone started chiming in.

  
“Well, the last spots are the worst. Everyone’s tired and just wants to go home.”

  
“And blaming someone else doesn’t actually mean it’s not our fault.”

“I don’t think we can or should take the fall just because of the girls. We’re a team, yes, but aren’t just the boys performing better than breaking any rules at all?”

  
Ziva presses her palm to her forehead, before smoothing out the stray hairs that had fallen out of place. “You are missing the point of this performance. It is meant to show our camaraderie, the friendship we can forge as sibling CCAs and the intricate bonds we have within that. How although we’re serious at times, we know how to have fun. If just the boys perform, it loses half of its meaning.”

  
“Yes, we’re breaking the rules,” Tony adds, “but that’s kind of the point of the performance. To show how we’re all in this together, even if it’s gonna cost more than we bargained for. Besides, this is our last major project, fuck it all. C’mon guys, we can’t do it without everyone in it together.”

  
Ziva’s gaze swept across the team and for once in her life, felt a unanimous sense of disregard for authority and was proud to be a part of it.

* * *

 

They’ve got two minutes and an almost fool-proof plan.

  
Tim has talked to Matthew and the teacher-in-charge, telling them that they’ve modified it so only the boys would be performing.

  
Gibbs has stationed himself at the sound booth, chatting up the girls manning it as an excuse to be there.

  
Meanwhile, the girls try their luck to get a hold of the teachers for the last time. The boys position themselves at the entrance of the makeshift stage. The campfire burning in the middle and the audience hyped up from the previous performances, the supple atmosphere is just right for them.

  
Perched at the nearest staircase that is conveniently spiral-shaped, the girls watched over the performance, like they just needed a better view.

  
A tap on her shoulder catches Ziva’s attention, “hey, I don’t necessarily understand how this is going to work.” She realizes it’s one of her girls and most of them nod in agreement.

  
“It’s okay, we’ll wave you off. Why not you arrange yourselves according to the drill formation, so when we give you the signal, you’ll run and join the performance?” comes a voice from the beginning of the dimly-lit stairwell.

  
As Tony steps into the light, Ziva’s admittedly slightly taken aback by his… everything. Perhaps it’s the way the light catches his gleaming green eyes and the sweat on his neck, but Ziva just couldn’t help but stare. The swept back hair drenched in perspiration and the crooked, confident smile that framed his obnoxiously angular face. Coupled with pushed back broad shoulders and his hands swinging flippantly alongside him. She oddly feels that its laughable how she’s never noticed how good-looking he is.

  
The boy motions for her to meet him at the bottom of the stairs. “Is Tony DiNozzo having second thoughts?” Ziva asks, folding her arms and partially flushed. Damn Tony with his stupid pretty eyes.

  
Gaze wondering and hands stuffed into his pockets, he shrugged, “just checking if everything’s alright. Undoubtedly we’re all going to get into trouble, so I’m just wondering if anyone would like to pull out. Y’know and all that jazz.”

  
His rigid speech allowed Ziva some space to chuckle, “honestly, I feel kind of bad. Matthew is going to get into a lot of trouble, if we pull this off.”

  
He relaxes and he speaks as though it’s just idle thoughts floating out his mouth, “well, then maybe he shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

  
When that is met with a stern glare, he throws a sheepish grin at Ziva, before turning to dash to where the boys were calling for him.

  
What was that all about?

  
Erupting from the crowds, surprisingly enthusiastic cheers overflowed the school grounds just as the music started.

  
As planned, the boys began their drill, but starting with only one boy. While the event managers appeared utterly confused, Gibbs seemed to be tampering down the hellfire that looked close to outbreak.

  
Slowly, a boy joined the formation every few seconds. Once they were all done, Ziva looked over to Gibbs, who had all but took over the booth.  
This was their time.

  
Music blaring through the speakers, muffling their voices, Ziva resorted to frantic waving and light nudging to disperse the girls. Her back was turned to the crowd, but judging from the heightened volumes of cheering whenever a girl joined the formation, things were going pretty well.

  
Her heart was stirring up unwanted feelings of nervousness and anxiety to rise up to bring tremors in her hands and doubt in her mind, but just as she sent off the last girl and got ready to sprint out, she took one last look at the sound booth across from them.

  
Gibbs was grinning, clearly ignoring the people locked outside of the room who were banging on the door, while he messed with the effects, allowing the music to reach even greater volumes.

  
For a split moment as Ziva looked at the campfire, the team in the middle of their drill item, faces lit with amusement and determination, the palpable heat ran through her blood into her limbs and spirited than she ever felt before, Ziva ran to join them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it!  
> I probably won't update for a couple more months (let's be honest, years)

**Author's Note:**

> THe FUck is Girls' Brigade: http://www.gb.org.sg/ (I based the CCA off this)  
> Boys' Brigade: http://www.bb.org.sg/ (I also based the CCA off this)  
> Precision DRILl?!: https://youtu.be/T48eBkQh3ro


End file.
